Addiction
by Eshe Returned
Summary: My version of key sixth book events from Professor Snape's point-of-view. AU.


A/N: This story is now AU. I started it before Deathly Hallows came out.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, I'm writing this for fun, not profit.

**Addiction**

"Severus…please…" Dumbledore said softly.

"I'm here. Now, put your hand in this potion."

"Severus, it's time."

Snape's head shot up quickly, and panic gleamed in his eyes.

"Sir?" Snape feigned ignorance as his trembling hands gently took the older man's burnt one to place it in the bowl of potion.

"I will prepare Harry for what he must do," said Dumbledore.

"I understand, but surely you would do better to have _two_ years to prepare the boy? Surely it could wait till _next_ year?"

"No, Severus, the time is now." Dumbledore winced as Severus began to massage the burnt hand, now covered in a sticky, yellow potion. "I'm not young. This ordeal has already taken more out of me then it should have."

"But I can restore you sir! The potion will work! Give it time!"

"No, Severus, there is no more time. It is now time for me to step aside."

"But the boy will not be ready. There's not enough time!"

"There is enough. There is always enough. If I fail to fully prepare him, you must continue."

"The boy is…is an incompetent! And if I do w-what you have requested…I won't have the opportunity! He's never learned from me anyway! He's as arrogant as his father!"

"Severus, it is also time you put aside your hatred for James…and Harry. You know as well as I how important this is. Should it be necessary, I know you will find a way to finish preparing him if I am unable. I have faith in you. I know you will not fail me."

It seemed the magic words had been spoken. Snape's resolve seemed to crumble, his head dropped, and a few seconds later, a barely perceptible nod sealed his fate.

***

Snape resented what Dumbledore was asking of him. As he sat in his armchair, he mulled over how much he hated what he was going to have to do, but he didn't have too much time to sulk, as moments later he was jolted out of his reverie by a light twinkling noise coming from the front door—his Intruder Charm. A few minutes later, Snape watched two shadowy figures come up to his door. He took a moment to gather his composure and then stalked to the front door, peering out the window at the pale face of Narcissa Malfoy. He had been expecting her, even though her visit was unannounced. He also noted that Bellatrix was with her. Sighing heavily, he opened the door.

After ordering Wormtail to get them wine, toasting the Dark Lord (barely holding back his disgust in his current mood), and answering a litany of Bellatrix's questions, Narcissa asked him the inevitable. She asked him to make the Unbreakable Vow. As Snape looked into her eyes, he knew that he couldn't refuse, not that he had ever intended to. He knew this moment would come, as did the Dark Lord. Wormtail had been positioned in Snape's home as the Dark Lord's spy, a final test of Severus' loyalty (under the pretext of being there to assist him of course). Severus looked into the eyes of the woman who was the closest thing to a sister he had, and agreed to take the vow.

Snape watched as the bright tongues of flame wrapped his and Narcissa's wrists. His gaze steady and his manner calm, he quietly agreed to each of her requests. Then she asked him to do the very thing that he knew now he could not avoid, vow or no vow. A shudder of disgust shook his hand, but he quickly mastered it, and agreed to her last request.

"`I will,' said Snape."

I will kill Dumbledore, Snape finished in his head, and nearly wept from the cruelty of it. Snape was glad when the two women finally left, and he could relax his facade. He finished the bottle of wine Wormtail had brought, and made it through another, and halfway through a third before collapsing finally into the blissful, familiar abyss of nothingness.

***

"I made the Unbreakable Vow," Severus whispered to Dumbledore without looking up at him, feigning preoccupation with the Headmaster's injured hand.

"And what did Narcissa ask you to do?"

"What I expected: protect Draco, help him," Snape took in a deep breath, "and complete his task should he fail."

As if it hadn't been enough that Snape was going to have to help Draco kill the only man he trusted, now he would have to cast the spell himself if Draco failed. Snape always wished Draco success, and he'd never wished it more than now. He really didn't want to have to be the one who cast the Avada Kedavra, and not just because of who would be at the other end.

"Severus, you understand that you are strong enough to resist the pull of the dark ways? I know you can."

Snape hadn't even realized Dumbledore was in his mind. He was worried that using The Killing Curse again would draw him back into his old ways. The curse could be addictive to those who were already prone to the darkness. Addictions were a weakness of Snape's. Alcohol. Sarcasm. Stinging remarks, even to those he loved.

"Yes, your faith in me is great Sir! That's why I've never been able to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, not even this past year. You would rather that Umbridge hag get the position than me!" Snape's bitterness exploded from his tongue, his usually delicate control at the end of its tether. Addicted. He knew it, and was ashamed.

"You have proven your loyalty to me time and time again, but you were not yet ready. Even if you were, you know of the jinx on the position. The time was not right." Snape was about to interrupt, but Dumbledore held up his good hand to quiet him. "This year, if you would not be averse to taking the position, I believe the timing is perfect. You will not be able to continue in it after you kill me anyway." With the slightest of smirks, Dumbledore continued, "Minerva would never allow it."

Snape barely understood what Dumbledore was saying to him. He couldn't believe he would finally get the position he coveted. He just stood, staring at the Headmaster.

"Will you agree to take up this new post as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Yes Sir! Of course! But if I may be so bold as to ask, will you not ever lift the jinx?"

"I think that I shall leave it. It will die with its caster soon enough."

Dumbledore seemed so certain, so calm. Snape could only aspire to having half of that serenity.

***

"You take too much for granted! I've changed my mind! I won't do it! You know better than anyone why I can't do this!" Snape cried frantically

"You will. You will because you must," said Dumbledore.

"No! I won't do it! Not again! I can't!"

"Yes Severus. It is not a request. Everything we've been working for these last two years could go to waste. This is vital." Dumbledore's face was set.

Snape shook his head. "No, no...I can't...I just can't. You can find a way to break the vow. Please?"

Dumbledore put one hand on Snape's shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. "You _can_ do this."

Snape scowled at the Headmaster, but held his tongue, instead he skulked off to his office, snapping at a few first years along the way. When he collapsed into his chair, he could feel each memory lick at the edge of his vision, begging for entrance. A head of fiery read hair began to ghost into his thoughts, and Snape began a flurry of activities. He shot out of his chair, he bolted to the desk, he began to frantically open and close drawers, he finally found a full bottle of wine, he marched back to his chair and un-corked it, and he drew out his wand with the intention of conjuring a glass. Then that hair ghosted in again, and he knew he wouldn't need one tonight. He lifted the bottle up to his mouth as quickly as he could manage, trying to head off the image before it became too real, spilling some wine on his robes in the effort.

How could Dumbledore ask this of him! It wasn't fair! Snape bashed his skull on the wall behind him. He liked his privacy, but sometimes he really wished the Headmaster could witness this bitter pain that Snape must always endure on his own. "I can't do it! I can't kill again! Doesn't he understand that! It'd destroy me!" Snape griped into the dark. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered, "If you don't do this, all your work will have been for nothing."

"But does it matter? Do I have the strength to do this without falling off the edge? It will all be for nothing anyway if I'm ruined in the process," Snape resonded to the voice. "I won't be any use as a spy if I turn back to the darkness."

As always, once the first image was carefully supressed, a pale face would begin to swim into view. Snape tilted the bottle again. "Why is it always me? Why do these battles always choose me?" He had been so sure he had it right in the first war. He'd known he'd chosen the right side. The Dark Lord was powerful, powerful enough to protect the only person Snape cared for, and he had been more than happy to dispense of the rest. The hair came back and faces began to swim in his vision. Snape violently shook his head and then beat it against the back wall before giving in and draining the bottle. He stumbled to his desk to grab another, this one already mostly-empty. After several swallows, he felt himself begin to calm...until the next wave of faces. He tore at his hair and bit down cries of agony threatening to rip themselves from his throat. He bit his palm, trying to restrain himself from draining the second bottle, but in the end, he couldn't stop the impulse. Once it was empty he dropped to the floor, still clutching the empty bottle like a security blanket. A soft knocking sound came at his door. He groaned, and it took him considerable effort, but he stood. He smoothed his hair and robes, performing a quick charm to clean them and remove the stench of alcohol, and then he opened the door. It was Minerva. Dumbledore sent her to make sure he was alright.

"He doesn't really care. Just go away! You can tell him whatever will help him sleep at night!" Snape growled, and then he slammed the door in her face. He immediately was sorry. He should be able to control himself better than this! Why was he like this!? Why did he instigate like that? Was it any wonder he had no one but Dumbledore to rely on in his life when he kept shoving everyone away? He stalked back over to his desk to grab another bottle of wine, but all he could see as he looked at it in his hand was another addiction. His eyes flashed and he began emptying his drawers of every bottle, tossing them into the rubbish bin. It was time he stopped this!

Snape looked at the pile of bottles, and he felt his hand twitch to grab one. "What if the memories come back?" a small voice asked. As if on cue, that red hair flashed threateningly. Snape gasped and clutched at his heart. It felt as if it was ripping. His gut began to roll, and he collapsed onto the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream that had been strangled on its way up by the pain building in his chest. His eyes watered and he beat his hands on the floor, and when that didn't stop the pain, he began to hammer his head on the floor. He finally felt relief and crawled to the door, leaning his back against it, trying to catch his breath. His eyes drifted to the side, one of the full bottles had fallen out of the pile, and it had remained un-broken somehow. He grabbed it to him, clutching it to his heart and rocking.

***

"Murderer! Traitor! Avada Kedavra!" spat Harry, but Snape dodged the jet of green light. Snape's work was finished. Everything was done. Harry was ready. Everything was ready. Voldemort was as good as gone. The battle was begun, and it could be finished...by someone else this time. Snape dodged another jet of light. Everything but one thing was done for him. He wasn't sure why, but he felt as if he owed an explanation to Harry. Perhaps it was the familiar eyes, now blazing with anger. He could never bear it when those eyes had been angry with him.

"You're right! I did it! It's my fault! He's dead because of me. I don't blame you for being furious, but it's over now. It's all over. I'm done fighting," Snape shouted. It was time for all of this to end. No more battles to choose him. He was choosing his final battle, and this was it. He'd done it. He'd resisted the darkness. He'd avoided falling off the edge and back into the dark ways. There was no need to continue the violence. It was time for it to end, and it would end with him.

"You murdering piece of filth! I'm going to make you pay!" Another jet of green light shot from Harry's wand...silently. "Finally," Snape smiled to himself. "I thought he'd never master that." He never imagined he'd be proud of the boy either, but he was. Snape stood still and let the light penetrate his chest.

***

Harry walked over to the body. He saw that in death, the Potions Master, who had always saved a hate-filled glare especially for him, actually looked...peaceful. Loathing filled Harry and he clenched his fists. How dare he! The nerve! He wouldn't even repent in the grave!


End file.
